


everything in its right place

by richietosier (forestjoshua)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Character Study, Eddie Lives, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Stan Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestjoshua/pseuds/richietosier
Summary: Stanley Uris takes a bath and decides to go back to Derry.





	everything in its right place

**Author's Note:**

> warning for homophobic language!!

Stanley Uris stands in the middle of his living room, clutching his new phone in his hand, and tries to breathe normally.

Fear has gripped him. It has taken out its ugly rusty hooks and planted them into Stan’s lungs. For a moment, he thinks he’s actually having a heart attack. His breath gets stuck somewhere in his throat and half of his body goes numb. His mind is going a mile a minute – short flashes of images he vows he has never seen before.

Or at least, that was what he thinks so. He isn’t sure.

The familiarity of the images is the scariest part. Some of them are warm, but most cold. Memories he has buried.

His head hurts.

“Honey?” comes Patty’s voice. She has moved away from the laptop, slowly approaching Stan. Her eyes look worried – scared, even. Stan doesn’t want Patty to be scared, _ever, _so he musters up the courage left trickling in his veins and turns to Patty, smiling. He feels like a puppet, not knowing who’s controlling him.

“Who was on the phone?” asks Patty. She has now come closer to Stan, tucks a stray curl behind Stan’s ear. Her touch is filled by love. “You look so frightened,” Patty whispers, frowning slightly. Her eyes search Stan’s face for answer. Her fingers trail down Stan’s cheeks.

Stan tries focus on her touch and her touch alone.

“No one. No one, really,” Stan says, unable to look away from Patty’s face. He had been looking forward to a lovely evening – he was going to finish his puzzle, then cuddle up with Patty on the couch as they watched something, perhaps just some silly game show on TV, and planned their vacation.

He can’t do that now, can he? No, he can’t relax with his wife and continue living peaceful married life. Not tonight. Not for a while. Maybe not _ever._ Mike had said _tomorrow. _He had insisted. Not in a mean way, Mike was never mean, that much Stan remembered. But he had been stern.

_Tomorrow._

Patty turns to blur in Stan’s eyes. He can’t focus on her anymore. He can only focus on his fear, how it slithers up his spine, making him want to retch. Stan thinks he can hear- He can hear-

Laughter. _Twisted _laughter. And screams.

“Stanley?”

Patty’s voice.

“What?” Stan breathes. The fear doesn’t go away. He doesn’t snap out of it. Claws paw at his skin. Stan wants to close his eyes and go away.

_It will never leave. It returns to Stan, in the darkness of the night when Patty has already fallen asleep next to him, offering no distraction. It taunts Stan and taints him, like a virus. _

Stan feels like he has been looking over his shoulder all his life. He doesn’t know why exactly and has never talked to anyone about it, not even Patty. He had wanted to; from the moment he had realized he had fallen in love with Patty. But- Something had stopped him. Mainly the feeling that it would put Patty in danger. Make her vulnerable to… whatever it was.

“Your hands are shaking,” Patty points out. Stan knows he’s freaking her out. Their life is peaceful, really. Perfect – not flawless. Briefly, Stan thinks about the children they are missing. Regardless, their life is wonderful _enough. _Sometimes perfection has room for flaws, something that Stan finds hard to admit.

And then, one phone call changes everything.

Stan’s grip on the phone is iron but then, Patty is uncurling his fingers from around the phone and setting it down. Stan opens his other hand and sees the final piece of the puzzle sitting on his palm. Patty picks it up, as well, and puts it next to the phone. Stan is grateful she has stopped calling out his name, demanding answers. She always knows just what Stan needs.

“I need to…” Stan mutters. What he really needs to is to _think. _He wants to walk around in circles, hands buried in his hair, spew all of it out to Patty and _figure it out. _“_Think.”_

“Why don’t I make us some tea and we can think together on the couch?” Patty suggests. She has given up trying to find out who exactly called Stan. Stan needs to get away from Patty – something that has never happened before.

“No. I- I think I’ll take a bath,” Stan gasps. Yes. That could work. All alone in the bath. Thinking.

Patty looks puzzled. “Alright, then,” she says, “Tea is waiting for you when you get out,” she adds and leans to press a kiss on Stan’s lips. It calms Stan down just a bit. _You’ll take your bath and when you get out, she’ll be here for you. Like she always is._

Stan folds his clothes neatly. He stands naked in the bathroom, breathing through his nose. He exhales only fear, fear so rancid he wonders if Patty can sense it but is too nice to say anything about it.

Stan’s hands start to shake again as it approaches the door, ready to lock the door. He never does it. He doesn’t lock the door on Patty, of course not. They’re comfortable with each other.

In the end, the door stays unlocked. He turns around and climbs into the bathtub. It’s the perfect temperature and if this were a nice, normal bath, Stan would instantly relax. He doesn’t this time.

He starts to _think._

He starts to _remember._

_The oath._

That’s what Mike said. First, Stan only remembered the fear. The promise came next with the face of Bill Denbrough.

Then, the sharp sting of the bottle shard piercing his skin. Stan lifts his hand from underneath the water and stares at the scar – a neat, white, almost straight line crossing his palm.

Stan runs his finger over it. _I swear, Bill. _How afraid he had been then. How afraid he was _now._

Two choices appear in his mind.

The first: taking himself off the board. Which means dying.

The second: going back to Derry. Because if they’re all together, they can defeat It. Even though Stan feels like he’s the weakest link.

Stan knows there are versions of this story where he chooses the former. This time, he doesn’t. He soaks in the bath for a while, trying just to have a nice bath. He can hear Patty in the kitchen, the clink of the glasses as she washes the dishes, humming along the song on the radio. He smiles to himself. There’s no way he can leave Patty alone in this world. The mere thought of it destroys Stan, the image of Patty hurt by him.

Ten minutes later, Stan finds himself in the kitchen. There’s a cup of tea on the counter and Stan feels his heart stutter. There’s still a chance he doesn’t make out of what’s about to come alive, but he doesn’t want to think about it. He has to make it. He wills himself to it.

Patty now fully sings along to a pop song on the radio, her voice soft and clear, a little clumsy. She doesn’t quite remember all the words and only hums the parts she doesn’t know. Stan leans on the counter, stares at her with such fondness tears start to rise in his eyes. She glances over her shoulder and notices Stan, her smile growing so wide Stan sees the two rows of her white teeth.

Stan steps forward and wraps his arms around her, placing his chin on top her head. He tickles her sides, just to make her laugh.

“Stop, Stanley,” Patty soon giggles. Her hands are up to the elbows in soapy water. Hastily, Patty dries them on the dish towel and tries to turn around in Stan’s arms. Stan squeezes her closer to him, pressing his face against the back of her head. He kisses her there and never wants to let go of her.

The pop song on the radio switches to an even cheesier one and Stan starts to sway Patty in his arms.

“I have bad news,” he finally mumbles, voice low, almost gravelly.

“Oh. What is it?” Patty asks, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Stan replies instantly. He thinks about another timeline where Patty finds him in the bathtub, wrists slit, and shudders. “I have to go to Maine.”

“Maine?” Patty says and manages to turn herself around so that she’s facing Stan.

“Mike – my old friend from when I was a kid – called and he needs me there,” Stan says. He can already see Patty doesn’t understand, doesn’t follow, no matter how hard she tries.

“Needs you there? Alright, when?”

Stan tries to breathe normally. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Patty repeats, raising her brows.

“It’s very urgent.”

“You don’t want to go,” Patty observes.

A faint smile appears on Stan’s lips. He can’t deny that. Patty knows him too well. Stan looks down. Without noticing, he has clasped Patty’s hands. “Yes. But I still _have to_ go,” he says hoarsely. “Patty, I made a promise. An oath.” He lifts his hand so that Patty can look at the scar.

“You made a _blood _oath? That’s where your scar is from?” Patty asks, eyes wide. “You always told me you didn’t remember where you got it.”

“And I didn’t lie to you,” Stan says, “I only remembered when Mike called.”

“What did you promise?” Patty asks. It’s not a demand – she just sounds curious.

“I- It’s too much to explain. Wouldn’t make any sense to anyone who isn’t… _us.” _

_I remember too much and not enough._

“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” Patty says. Only half-joking.

“No,” Stan says, almost choking.

_Now, I’m going to have to kill this fucking clown._

Stan doesn’t remember who said that.

Sighing, Patty detangles herself from Stan’s arms. She turns off the radio and hands Stan the cup of tea that’s already gone way too cold for Stan’s taste.

“Drink,” she insists, “I’ll help you pack. What do you need?”

_Courage. A lot of it, _Stan thinks, but doesn’t say it and follows Patty to their bedroom with the cup of tea in his hands.

\--

When Stan lands in Maine, he’s immediately texting Patty that he’s arrived and safe, and that he loves her and misses her. For a long while, Stan had just held Patty in his arms, memorizing the feel of her body against his, before kissing her hair and taking a cab to the airport.

He’s already too late. He had tried to call Mike, let him know that he’s _coming, _but it had gone to voicemail. Stan doesn’t know if Mike has heard his message, if they are worried.

When he gets into the cab and tells the driver he’s going to Derry, the driver looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Derry? Are you sure?” he asks.

“I grew up in Derry,” Stan says, grimacing.

“You poor son of a gun,” the driver mumbles, “Why on earth do you want to go back there?”

“I have… unfinished business,” Stan says, hoping the driver would just shut up and take him where he needs to be.

“Alright. You have an address?”

Stan gives the man the address of the Chinese restaurant. The others are probably already there. Remembering. Stan drums his thigh, anxious about what’s to come.

“Did you hear about the murder?” the driver asks after a long silence.

“Huh,” Stan says, “No, I’ve been traveling all day,” he continues. _Murder. _A word Stan despises.

_It’s come back, hasn’t it?_

“Yeah. A pair of faggots were attacked. One of them was killed. That’s messed up, even for a people like them. But then again, what were they doing in Derry, anyway? That town isn’t for people like them. No room for outsiders in Derry. Freaks.”

Stan doesn’t like the way the man speaks, so he keeps quiet. If a gay man was murdered, maybe that’s not… _It_, after all. That does sound like regular Derry. The town is full of hate. Then again, because It was in the root of the rotten nature of Derry

Stan knows he’s lying to himself. Mike wouldn’t call them back if he wasn’t absolutely sure. Stan feels bad for Mike, who never get to escape the worst town in the country.

Hearing the driver use a slur and derogatory language so casually had brought another memory into Stan’s mind. A boy, with thick-rimmed glasses. Fear on his face. He’s speaking to Stan, but Stan cannot hear, _remember, _his words. His name is on the tip of Stan’s tongue.

_R-_

The cab leaves Stan in front of Jade of the Orient. He tersely thanks the driver when he lifts Stan’s suitcase from the trunk. “Have a nice evening, sir,” the man says, but Stan doesn’t answer. He’s staring at the neon sign of the restaurant, not knowing what to expect.

Here goes or nothing.

The woman at the front desk smiles kindly to him as Stan asks where he could find Mike Hanlon. He follows her to the back of the restaurant, to the private area Mike has reserved for them.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman says to Stan and once again, Stan isn’t able to reply. He stares into the room, where the six best friends he ever had are laughing, joking, talking to each other. There’s an empty seat, clearly waiting for Stan.

They have yet to notice him and they aren’t going to notice him, if Stan keeps lurking in the doorway. So, Stan walks in, saying quietly,

“Hi, Losers.”

The whole room goes quiet. Of course, Richie – _Richie,_ that’s a name Stan hadn’t remembered until now – is the first to speak. “Stanley!” he exclaims, rushing up from his seat. When he hugs Stan, Stan realizes Richie is the boy he thought about earlier in the cab. “We were starting to think you weren’t going to show up,” Richie says, letting Stan go, patting his arm,

“Who’s _we, _Richie?” the woman, Beverly, points out. Her hair is still the same: red and curly and short. She gets up and hugs Stan, too. All of them do.

“Group hug, group hug!” Richie is shouting and Stan is getting squished by six people he didn’t know he was missing just yesterday.

For the first time, the return to Derry makes him smile.

“Sit down,” Bill says, pointing Stan to the chair next to him. Stan sits and looks at his friends, looks at them properly. How did he forget their faces that were so dear to Stan? He doesn’t have friends like these.

What he only has is Patty.

Beverly grins. “Remember? I told you: just like as a kid, but taller.” Something flickers over Beverly’s face as she looks at Stan. It almost looks like relief. Stan squints at Beverly, but she averts her gaze.

“How are you, Stan?” asks Mike. His eyes are the same: extremely kind, but his voice is lower and warmer. It feels good to see him. It feels good to see all of them and remember more and more, scene by scene, memory by memory.

But only the good memories. Because there’s something bad tickling the back of Stan’s skull. Something he doesn’t want to unleash.

“I’m… good,” Stan says and starts nervously piling food on his plate.

“How much do you remember?” Mike continues. Stan’s hand starts to shake. He drops the spoon.

“Bits and pieces,” he mutters.

“Hey, Stanley,” Richie interrupts and he hasn’t changed a bit, it seems. Even the tone of his voice is still the same. He only looks older. And maybe… sadder. The spark in his eyes isn’t as genuine as it was when he was a child. “Did you hear that Eddie got married?”

To Stan’s ears, it sounds like, _can you believe Eddie got married? Isn’t it funny, a joke? Please, Stanley, tell me it isn’t true._

Eddie starts to rapidly bicker with Richie, waving his hands around, voice sharp. Stan stares at the two of them and suddenly, he’s in the past. He used to roll his eyes at them, a lot. Eddie calls Richie by all the possible insulting names and Richie – he stares at Eddie, almost fondly.

Stan is put out from his trance by Beverly asking, “How about you, Stan? You have a special someone in your life?” It sounds teasing, but Stan isn’t embarrassed. He’s proud.

“Yes,” Stan says, announcing, “I’m married.”

“Stanley got married too?” Richie splutters, taking a break from trying to get Eddie’s undivided attention. “Who would agree to marry _you?”_

“Well, Patricia did,” Stan snaps back.

“Good for Patricia, then,” Richie mutters, taking another shot. He’s drinking. A lot. Stan frowns.

“What does she look like?” Beverly asks, ignoring Richie.

“Oh, I have our wedding picture as my phone background,” Stan says, starting to dig out his phone from his pocket. He had changed the background just this morning, to remind him what he’s coming back to.

Leaning over to Beverly, Stan shows the photo to her. Bill is also looking, over Stan’s shoulder. Beverly squeals. “Oh! She’s beautiful! Look at you, a gorgeous couple.” She grins at Stan. “Well done, Stanley. Patricia, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Patty,” Stan says, smiling at the picture.

“Wait, Stan, you have your wedding photo as your background?” Richie, once again, calls out from the other side of the table.

“And? What about it?” Stan replies, “What’s your phone background, then?”

“Eddie’s mom, naked, of course,” Richie says, trying not to choke on his laughter. Stan rolls his eyes. It has begun.

“Shut the fuck up about my mom for a second, dipshit,” Eddie hisses at Richie.

Stan smiles slowly. “Yeah, Richie. Beep beep.” Yes, he has missed this. He has missed this so dearly.

Later, when everyone wants to leave, arguing, yelling at Mike, Stan stays behind and muses. He takes out his phone, looks at the wedding picture while Richie screams about not wanting to get murdered in Derry. Die by your own hand or die trying. Stan doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to face It, none of them wants to.

Some of them are already leaving.

Stan hears Mike pleading to Bill and approaches them.

“I’ll come too,” he says and the relief in Mike’s eyes is unparalleled.

\--

“I saw all us die,” Beverly’s voice, paper thin, speaks.

She sits there and looks incredibly small, Ben, Richie and Eddie standing in front of her in half circle.

It’s Bill who goes to comfort her, to touch her, and it all feels so wrong – all those soft touches, as if they were secret lovers. And Beverly has a husband, except Stan doesn’t see a ring on her finger. Stan watches Ben’s jaw clench.

“Beverly was the only one of us who got caught in the deadlights that day,” Mike explains after Beverly talks about her nightmares that have plagued her for 27 years.

Which sounds awfully familiar to Stan.

“No,” he interrupts hoarsely, “Not the only one.”

All six of them turn to look at Stan. Beverly is the first to speak. Her eyes widen in horror. “Stan, you- How? When?”

Stan shakes his head. The thing is, he doesn’t _remember. _But – the nightmares, the constant fright in his life… What else could it be?

“I remember,” says Richie suddenly, sounding glum. “When that painting lady– Um, _thing_ attacked you. It was so messed up; it had your whole face in its mouth… You probably saw these forbidden Christmas lights then.”

Stan shudders, nodding. “I remember the painting. I hated it as a kid. It- It didn’t make any _sense _to me, her face… And then, it came to _life. _It made even less sense.”

“Stan,” Beverly says, desperately. “Have you seen us die, too?” _Have you seen the bathtub, the blood?_

“I- In some nightmares, yes. Mostly, It just made me afraid. All my life,” Stan admits quietly. Something touches his arm and he starts, relaxing when it turns out to be just Beverly, trying to comfort him.

“We need to get rest,” Mike says, “Tomorrow, we’ll have to find the artifacts to needed in performing the ritual. Before the cycle ends.”

“Artifacts?” mutters Richie.

“Yes,” Mike says, “We’ll talk more about it tomorrow. Rest. As well as you can.”

Stan doesn’t know if he can do that. Regardless, he finds himself sitting in his room, on the rock-hard mattress. His phone is in his hand and he stares at Patty’s smiling face. He wants to call her, _so bad. _His fingers itch. Would calling Patty attract It to her? Stan doesn’t know. What more does It want? All seven of the Losers are already walking willingly into its claws.

Giving up, Stan pushes the call button. He needs to hear Patty’s voice. Maybe for the last time.

“Hey, honey? Everything good?” Patty answers. Stan lets out a breath. He can almost see her – leaning against the kitchen counter, soft hair framing her face, glasses perched on her nose. So far away.

“Hey, baby-love,” Stan sighs, “Yeah. Everything is fine. What are you doing?”

“Looking at things to do in Buenos Aires,” says Patty.

“Good,” Stan says. He really wants to go to Buenos Aires with her. He really wants this over and done with. “You’ll have to make me a list.”

“Don’t worry, already on it,” Patty laughs. Stan could listen to her laughter forever. He’s about to say something to her, maybe get another laugh out of her, when-

“Richie, get out of my room!”

_Thump._

“What was that?” asks Patty.

“Hold on,” Stan mutters.

Familiar bickering echoes from the hallway. Stan opens his door to find Eddie and Richie mid-argument, Eddie flailing his hands as Richie stares at him.

“What am I supposed to do? They said there’s no hot water in my room.”

“I don’t want you using my shower,” Eddie says.

“Why not?”

“Because! What if you have athlete’s foot, huh?”

“I have not!”

“Guys!” Stan raises his voice. “Can you keep it down? I’m trying to talk with my wife.”

Eddie and Richie turn to stare at Stan. Eddie scoffs, turns around and disappears into his room.

“Ooh, look at me!” Richie says, “I’m Stanley! I’m a successful accountant and I have a _wife!”_

“What is wrong with you?” Stan hisses.

“Nothing! Just that I want to take a shower before we delve into the depths of Derry sewers and Eddie Spaghetti won’t let me.”

“Stop bothering him,” Stan sighs, opening the door of his room for Richie. “You can use my shower.”

“Athlete’s foot!” Eddie shouts from his room.

“Thank you, Eddie!” Stan shouts back, grabbing Richie by his shirt, dragging him into the room. “There,” he says, shoving Richie into the bathroom’s direction. “Use one of my towels. Be my guest.”

Stan throws himself on the bed. “Patty, are you still there?”

“Yup,” says Patty, “What was that?”

“Richie and Eddie,” Stan explains, “They’re always like that. Always have been.” He glances at the bathroom door. The shower is already running. “I have a theory. I think they’re madly in love with each other,” Stan whispers.

“Oh,” Patty says, “You have to tell me everything when you get back. Sounds like quite a trip you’re having.”

_When you get back. _

“Did he literally just call him ‘Eddie Spaghetti’?” Patty adds.

“Yes.”

“What does he call you?”

A pause.

“Stan the Man.”

Patty dissolves into laughter.

“Stop laughing,” Stan whines half-heartedly, “It’s not that bad.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I like it,” Stan says because to Patty, he can admit anything.

“And what did he mean by the sewers?” Patty asks and Stan’s stomach stops. He had hated the sewers, being _dirty _and _lost._

“Sewers?”

“Yeah. He said something about delving into the Derry sewers? What are you guys going to do in Derry?”

“Uh, nothing,” Stan mutters, “It was just one of Richie’s jokes. Really, nothing. Listen, I have got to go.”

“Stan-“

“Patty,” Stan says, closing his eyes. “I need to get some sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow. I’ll- I’ll call you when I can, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” says Patty and those words start to play inside Stan’s head.

He thinks of them when he’s trying to lull himself into his usual fitful sleep. _I love you, I love you, I love you. _

It almost works, Stan almost falls asleep, until Eddie starts to yell at Myra on the phone in the next room over.

Groaning, Stan tries to block his hear by his pillow.

_Well, that sounds like a happy, healthy marriage…_

\--

Stan arrives last at Derry Town House, haunted by what he just saw. In his hands, he’s clutching his old binoculars, those which his father gave him as a birthday present when he turned twelve. One day, he had been bird watching in the park near the standpipe and he’d seen those dead boys there. He must have dropped his binoculars rushing away from there, for now, 27 years later, Stan had discovered them underneath a bush.

That was a memory Stan had not wanted to rouse, in particular. He can still feel the same feelings of upset, of none of it making _sense. _Stan stands in the street, breathing slowly. They’d have to go back to the sewers soon, if everyone had found their artifact.

Bill rushes out of the door just as Stan is entering, a look of fright and determination on his pinched face.

“Whoa!” Stan exclaims, stepping aside, letting Bill jog past him. Stan expects Bill to hop in his car, but instead, he takes a bicycle lying in front of the house. A rusty, old bicycle.

Silver.

“Bill?” Stan calls out after him. Bill doesn’t listen. He acts like Stan isn’t there – Bill hadn’t probably noticed him at all. Stan watches as his old friends rides down the street, pedaling as fast as he can.

Stan hadn’t expected Bill to be the one of them to leave in a hurry, on a bicycle of all things. Guess that’s a shoutout to the past, when the Losers would ride their bikes all around Derry. Frowning, Stan enters the Town House and sees Ben and Beverly.

“He’ll come back,” Ben is saying, “At least I got Richie to stay.”

Beverly doesn’t look so convinced. Neither is Stan.

“What’s going on?” he asks. There’s a skateboard lying on the floor and… blood. “You got Richie to stay? He was leaving again?”

“He was really upset,” Ben explains, “Well, we’re all upset, but Richie…”

“Bill left to the festival. He’s certain It has gone after the boy from the restaurant,” Beverly says, hugging herself.

“You’re not leaving?” Ben asks Stan. _Pleads._

Stan wants to. He wants to leave Derry behind, fly back to Patty, fly to _Buenos Aires _and perhaps never return. Stan also knows It’s claws reach every corner of the world. Probably not even the moon is safe.

“Of course not,” Stan says, and Ben breathes out in relief. “I’ll go check up on Richie,” Stan adds, because, yeah. No way _Ben _has convinced Richie to stay. The only ones that can get through to Richie are Stan and Beverly, and maybe Bill on a good day. “I’ll see you here. I _promise.”_

The stairs creak under his shoes as Stan leaps them up two at a time. Quickly, he approaches Richie’s room to catch the man hastily zipping his suitcase. Their eyes lock. Stan crosses his arms, raising his brow at Richie.

“Listen, Stanley, I have no time for this,” Richie mutters.

“Why don’t you sit down. Let’s talk,” Stan says, gesturing towards the bed.

“Haystack already gave me a nice list of reasons why should I stay. I didn’t really sign it, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, especially when Bev is apparently necking with Big Bill,” Richie rambles.

Stan has to roll his eyes. Richie looks offended.

“Well, she _is!” _he insists.

“Yeah,” Stan sighs. He doesn’t really need this. “Rich, sit down.”

“No,” Richie says, trying to get past Stan to the door. Stan catches him by the arm and looks into Richie’s eyes that are full of fear, twitching, _terrified._

“What did you see out there?” Stan whispers. “I’m not Ben. You know you can talk to me. About things you couldn’t speak with him.”

Richie backs away from Stan, letting his suitcase drop on the floor. He collapses on the bed and Stan follows him, sitting next to him.

When Richie doesn’t say anything, Stan opens his mouth. “I went to the standpipe.” Richie hums. “You remember that? Remember the stories about the children who drowned there?”

“Uh, yeah,” Richie mumbles and to Stan’s surprise, smiles weakly. “My mom used to tell that story to me when I wasn’t behaving. Honestly, I think she was just scared that I would end up dead. Derry gives you a lot of options, though, isn’t that nice? Do you want to drown? Be slaughtered by a demonic clown? Get beaten to death by people who deem you too different?”

“I always hated this town, too,” Stan sighs. “Didn’t quite realize how incredibly _much _until today, when I saw those dead boys at the standpipe again.”

Stan fiddles with the binoculars in his hand and Richie notices, asking, “Do you still go bird watching now that you’re all grown up?”

“Not really,” Stan mumbles, turning the binoculars around in his hands. They’re small and dirty, eaten by 27 years. The original green color has turned to gray.

It feels like when his childhood and the best friends he ever had were stolen from him, half of his life went, as well. Stan cannot imagine _not _being married to Patty, but he wonders what would be different if he’d kept in touch with the Losers. Spoken to Richie every day, like they used to. A lot of things would be different, Stan figures. Would be even more content? Happier? Would Richie be happier?

“I saw dead bodies come to life and I wasn’t afraid of _them,” _Stan mumbles, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m very afraid of _It. _Just that… I like to have order in my life. Things have to make sense. And It… doesn’t.”

“I would’ve taken corpses chasing me over what I encountered,” Richie says, laughing humorlessly. He takes off his glasses and rubs them with the hem of his shirt. A nervous tick.

Stan keeps quiet. He looks at Richie, who vehemently cleans his glasses, even though there’s not a smudge on them anymore. “I went to the arcade,” Richie says and Stan nods. Makes sense. Richie practically lived there the summer of ’89, whenever they weren’t hunting for the clown. “And I remembered… It all came back. One time, Bowers…”

“Richie,” Stan sighs, gripping Richie’s arm. Richie looks at Stan, baffled. Stan gives him a tiny nod and Richie reads everything in Stan’s eyes.

“You know?” he says, voice incredibly small, so small it doesn’t sound like Richie at all.

“I didn’t remember it until, well, today. But I remember you coming to me that day and spilling everything. About Bowers and his cousin. About the Paul Bunyan statue. About-“

Richie lets out a noise and moves away, so that Stan can’t touch him. “What did I tell you, Stanley?”

“Enough. Don’t worry. It didn’t make any difference to me. It _doesn’t. _You know accept you,” Stan says gently.

“Yeah, well, that clown _sang _to me about it and threatened to tell everyone. About my _dirty little secret,” _Richie says bitterly.

“You’re not dirty,” Stan says. Richie looks at him. Blinks. Then, chuckles wanly.

“Yeah. I remember you saying that to me before. You were the only one who knew, Stan.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” Stan whispers.

Richie takes a deep breath. “I thought that if I told someone, it would be easier. It wouldn’t be a secret anymore. _It _could not use it against me. And even though you didn’t have a negative reaction, I was still afraid. You heard about the hate-crime that happened just recently? Yeah. I spent my whole teenhood thinking one day that would be me. Even though I kept that part of me hidden. I was still scared shitless. I didn’t forget I was- That I was- I’m- _Fuck._ But this town… It turned all that fear up until I felt like I have to leave, or I’ll die.”

“I don’t even try to pretend that I understand,” Stan says quietly, “But once this is over, you can leave this town behind for good. And maybe try to heal.”

“I’m such a shithead,” Richie mutters, wiping his eyes.

“No,” Stan says sharply, “You’re brave. We all have our doubts. You know what?”

Stan can’t believe what he’s about to confess to Richie. “What?” says Richie.

“I seriously thought about killing myself instead of coming here.”

The words sound harsh and ugly and they’re there.

Richie stares. His mouth hangs open. “Oh, wow,” he finally says. “And here I am crying over the fact that a clown called me gay.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not suicidal in general. But it felt like an option. I didn’t take it. I couldn’t do that to you guys, to Patty.”

“Well, aren’t we messed up,” Richie says, laughing. His laughter shakes. His whole body shakes.

“Not messed up. Well, maybe a little. But you’re not messed up for being gay.”

“I’m gay,” Richie says. Then, he pats Stan’s arm. “Don’t worry, you’re hot stuff and that’s good for Patricia, but I’m not in love with you or anything.” It’s a lame attempt at a joke.

“No,” Stan says bluntly, “You’re in love with Eddie.”

Richie’s hand drops. He stares at Stan like a deer caught in headlights. Stan begins to smile. “I had to deal with you two bickering. You have no idea how much you got on my nerves.”

“I remember you rolling your eyes a lot,” Richie mentions, and they laugh.

“You had such a schoolboy crush on him,” Stan smiles.

“I think it was love,” Richie says quietly, “It is, still.”

“You should talk to Ben about _this,” _Stan says, “Pining is his forte. You have so much to bond over.” He’s trying to make Richie feel better. Richie snorts.

“Do you think Eddie knows?” He sounds _timid._

“No clue. Probably not.”

“Can’t believe I’m having a discussion with Stan the Man Uris about me being gay. Stan the accountant. You probably have sex with your wife once a month in a missionary position.”

Rolling his eyes again, Stan replies, “Not just once a month. Not in just in a missionary position.”

“Wait, what?”

“Do you really want to discuss hetero sex? Right now, when we’re about to go kill a demonic clown from space?”

Richie makes a face. “Good point. Wouldn’t want _that _to be my last deep conversation.” He pauses and leans closer to Stan. “But just out of curiosity, how often?”

Stan just opts to wink a Richie, which sends them both in a fit of giggles. Richie almost starts to choke, so Stan has to hit his back.

And then, someone is screaming. Richie is up an instant, cursing, “_Shit. _That’s Eddie.”

Following Richie, Stan thinks, _so it begins._

\--

Stan doesn’t know how long It torments him, shows him visions of things his heart fears and despised, things that are not _real. _Stan struggles, knows his friends are struggling as well and there’s nothing Stan can do.

_Do you want all this to make sense, Stanley? It’s never going to make sense! _It mocks him. The voice of the clown echoes around the room he’s thrown Stan in, the room tilts, none of the walls are straight, and Stan tries to get to the door, but he keeps slipping, slipping, _slipping… _

A distressed yell escapes Stan’s throat. He tries to grab the floor, claws it, plants his nails into the wooden planks. It doesn’t work, Stan feels his nails crack, leaving behind desperate scratches and he’s _falling._

He lands in water and for a moment, he thinks, _Drowning? Really? _But then, he breaks the surface of water, gasping.

He’s in a bathtub, bleeding, and he didn’t _want _this. Someone, _himself, _Stan realizes, has written two letters on the wall, an I and a T.

_It._

Distressed, Stan looks down at his hands, sees how he _bleeds, _blood so dark it’s black. Stan tries to cover one of the wounds, in vain. The blood continues pouring between his fingers.

Someone knocks on the door. “Stan?”

“Don’t come in,” Stan yells. He knows that voice. _Patty._

Patty opens the door and screams. Stan tries to climb out of the tub, but It keeps him in his place. The water has turned darker than pink. How much blood has he lost?

_It’s not real, Stan._

“How could you leave me?” Patty sobs, continuing to scream.

“No,” Stan shouts, “I didn’t! I’m here! I’m alive!”

Patty collapses against the wall. The sounds she makes almost drive Stan insane.

“Patty!”

She cries. Desperately. Heart-broken, completely in pieces.

Except, that is not Patty. Angry, so angry his heart stutters, Stan screams at It, “How dare you use her against me!” He grips the sides of the tub, fingers slippery with blood that still pulsates out of his wounds and tries to climb up.

It isn’t having it. It thrusts Stan back underneath the water, Stan can hear It laughing, that horrifying and insane laughter of a clown, muffled by water. Thrashing, Stan fights It’s grip on him.

_You have to go home to Patty. You have to go home to Patty. To Patty. Home. To Patty. Go home to Patty. Home to Patty. Patty-_

With a terrified gasp, Stan opens his eyes. He’s no longer under water. Quickly, he looks at his arms. The blood is still there, but the wounds are gone. He feels wet, hair stuck to his forehead.

“Stan!”

Stan starts, but the voice belongs to Mike, warm but firm. Mike is grabbing Stan’s arms, trying to ground him.

“Are you-“ Mike begins to ask and then, It is wrapping one of its spider legs around Mike, lifting him up.

“Mike!” Stan yells, scrambling up. Helplessly, he stares at It dangling Mike in the air, squeezing him. Mike bellows in pain and Stan is looking for something, _anything, _to distract It with.

He doesn’t have to. A rock hits It in the face. “Hey, fuckface!”

Richie. Standing up, up, up there, yelling at It. Stan can only stare, mouth open.

“Want to play truth or dare? Here’s a truth: you’re a _sloppy bitch. _Yeah, that’s right! Let’s dance! Yippee-ki-yay, mother-“

The deadlights get him. Stan takes an instinctive step back as It, the mouth full of teeth wide open, floats Richie. Stan remembers how Beverly had been, limp like a puppet. And suddenly, he remembers staring at those blinding lights as It had closed its mouth around his face, all the screams, the terror, the future and would-be-future. There are still faint scars on his face from the fangs and instinctively, Stan reaches to touch the side of his face.

“Richie!” Stan shouts hoarsely, in vain. He searches Mike with his eyes, doesn’t know where It has dropped him. “Mike?”

Then, he sees Eddie, appearing from the same place Richie had just a moment before. Even from afar, Stan can see the horrified expression on his face. “Eddie!” Stan shouts, but Eddie cannot hear him. He grips the fence post, the made-up weapon Beverly had given him, muttering something to himself. And then, he’s yelling, “Beep beep, motherfucker!”

The fence post hits the roof of It’s mouth and disgusting, glowing goo starts to shoot out. Stan backs away. From the corner of his eye, he sees Richie drop, Eddie is already approaching him, fast. Stan yelps and jumps aside as some it-goo lands near him. He sees Eddie crouched over Richie, shouting at him. Richie is still out.

How did they get Beverly out of the trance? Stan thinks and then he sees Ben and Beverly, clutching each other, watching.

Oh, right. Ben had kissed her.

Stan starts to run towards Eddie and Richie. Should he tell Eddie to kiss Richie? Would that be too forward? He doesn’t have to think further, since Richie seems to be coming to, Eddie talking to him all excited.

Eddie is, and Stan thinks this with all the love in his heart, so dumb, turning his back to the enemy. It is trashing, suffering, but dead? Not quite.

Also, It’s _pissed._

Stan has reached Eddie and Richie. “Eddie, move,” he hisses. Eddie glances at Stan, all confusion, but Richie gets it. He grabs Eddie, rolls them over. One of It’s claws buries in the ground next to them.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie says, shaking. He’s lying half on top of Richie and Richie looks dazzled. He’s not captured by the deadlights anymore; he’s captured by Eddie.

“Get up. Move. It’s not dead,” Stan says to them and then, something grabs him.

His vision goes dark. Stan squeezes his eyes shut, because he knows what’s happening. It has its mouth on him again, those jagged teeth digging into his skin. Stan can feel It slobbering onto his face and the deadlights – their gleaming throw Stan’s eyelids, but not having an effect on him. And he can hear yelling, his friends calling out to him.

And like 27 years ago, his friends come to his rescue. Then, Stan had screamed at them, _You’re not my friends! _He can remember Eddie trying to convince him, Mike’s sad eyes, Richie’s tears, Ben draped over him. They had tried to comfort him the best they could, and Stan almost hadn’t returned to Derry.

They were his friends. _Are._

“Stan? Stan, are you alright?” Eddie is shouting. Stan gasps for air.

“We need to run,” Beverly is shouting. Stan’s whole face feels numb. Bill and Richie grab him, start to drag him away from the clown-spider. Blood trickles down Stan’s face, which feels sticky and _gross. _He wants to go absolutely insane.

They squeeze into a cavern which It can’t enter, and Eddie is babbling, talking about how they need to make It feel _small. _How he’d almost strangled the leper. Mike is supporting Eddie’s idea, but Stan isn’t so sure it’s going to work.

What other choice do they have? They have to try.

And they succeed – not in the way they had first intended, but still. It ends up dead.

“We need to go,” Mike mutters when the ground and everything around them starts to shake. Stan feels like he can’t stand on his feet a second longer. Like It sucked all physical strength from him, when it tried to eat Stan’s face. He leans of Bill and tries to trudge forward.

“You good?” Bill asks, worrying tone in his voice.

“Yeah,” Stan breathes, “Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

In the end, they really need to _run_. Stone and grime fall around them, the ground escapes from underneath their feet. Stan wonders if now that It – an essential part of Derry – is gone, the whole town is going to collapse.

“We’re almost at the house!” Ben shouts. Stan’s feet shake, Bill is basically dragging him.

“Come on, Stan!” That’s Richie. Or maybe Eddie.

“I need to rest,” Stan mutters, letting go of Bill. He stands, rocks falling around him.

“Stan, keep going!” Bill shouts, trying to get Stan to move. Stan wants to sit down, even though deep down he knows that if he doesn’t move, he’s going to die.

He got this far. Why would he be giving up now?

He thinks about Patty.

“Stan!” Bill yells and then, something falls on Stan. He blacks out.

\--

“Hey, Stan? How are you feeling, buddy?”

Stan takes a long to time to realize he’s awake. His body feels heavy. On top of that, he has a killer headache. Like someone is stomping on his temples. It’s worse than every hangover he’s ever had, combined.

“Mr. Uris?” someone asks. A female voice, clear as bell. Stan blinks. The lights are too bright. Stan… wants to go back underground, back in the dark.

Except, no. That fucking clown.

“Clown,” Stan croaks.

“Nurse, he’s delirious,” says someone. Stan knows that voice. He tries to open his eyes again, manages with an effort. He sees a man with glasses.

“Oh, it’s _you,” _Stan mumbles.

“How are you, Stan?” Richie asks, grinning. His hair is dirty, and his glasses are broken. He looks exhilarated.

Stan pauses. It all comes back to him in flashes. The did really kill that fucking clown. “I need to take a piss,” Stan says. He realizes it’s the full bladder that has waked him up.

“Stan the Man!” Richie exclaims, throwing himself on top of Stan to hug him. Stan lets out an ‘oof’ sound but doesn’t push Richie away.

“I’m serious, Rich,” he says, only half-annoyed. The nurse and Richie help him up. Getting on his feet is surprisingly easy. Stan staggers into the direction of the bathroom, dragging the IV with him, feeling the nurse’s worried eyes on him.

“Do you need my help, Staniel?” Richie calls out after him. Stan flips him of without looking.

When he comes back, Richie is gone. The nurse says, “I told Mr. Tozier to give you some peace. All of your friends have been pestering us non-stop. They ought to get some rest themselves.”

Stan grunts and crawls back into bed. He’s really tired. The nurse comes to check his IV. He wonders if someone has called Patty. He’d want to know if Patty had been admitted to a hospital.

“You sleep, Mr. Uris,” the nurse drawls, “Head injuries heal that way.”

The next time Stan is awake, someone is caressing the hair off his face. Stan has to admit it feels nice. Comforting. Loving. He opens his eyes and sees the figure of a woman. Her fingers are long and elegant, adorned with slim rings.

“_Patty?” _Stan says, voice full of hope. His eyes take a long time to focus. The woman smiles – she’s not Patty, Patty doesn’t have red hair. “Beverly?”

“It’s me,” Beverly whispers, “Patty’s not here yet.”

That wakes up Stan more. “Patty is coming?”

“We called her,” Beverly says, “We figured it’s safe for her to come here since It is dead.”

“Thank you,” Stan whispers, coughing. His mouth feels like it’s full of sand.

“Water?” Beverly asks, already shoving a glass into Stan’s hand. Hungrily, he takes a gulp. He’s too greedy: the water splashes down his chin. Beverly snickers and then, she’s handing him a napkin.

“Oh, fuck off,” Stan scoffs, but can’t stop a smile forming on his lips. Beverly grins back, her eyes glistening. Her smile is so fond. “What?” Stan whispers.

“We all really made it out alive,” Beverly sighs.

“Yeah. Thank fuck. Where are the others?”

“Should I invite them in?” Beverly suggests, “They’re right outside.”

Stan thinks about how all of them would rush in, loud and excited and annoying him from the very first second. Stan grins. “Of course.”

It’s like he predicted. Bill lets out an excited yell. Richie and Eddie are bickering – surprise, surprise, Ben looks close to tears and Mike comes to fuss over Stan.

“What happened?” Stan asks when all of them calm down. Everyone is touching Stan some way. Beverly has grasped his hand, Ben’s wide palm rests on his shoulder. Bill is gripping his ankle; Richie plays with his hair. Both of Eddie’s hands are squeezing Stan’s arm and Mike’s hand is on his knee.

“You stopped and then a rock hit you. It was terrifying. Ben and Bill had to carry you and you barely made it out from Neibolt,” Eddie says. Stan looks at him and sees how his and Richie’s knees are casually touching.

“Neibolt,” Stan repeats.

“It collapsed,” Bill says, “The whole house is gone.”

“Good. It was an ugly house. I wonder why they never demolished it,” Stan says.

“Probably had something to do with It,” Ben mumbles, Beverly nodding next to him. They’re conveniently touching, as well.

_I see, _Stan thinks smugly. He thinks about Beverly’s missing wedding ring. There are still bruises on her arms and Stan kind of wants to go and beat up that bastard, but Beverly has Ben now. She’s going to be alright.

“Thank you,” Stan says, squeezing Beverly’s fingers. “Not just for saving my life, but for everything. You all are my best friends. Ever. I’ve never had friends like you.”

“Don’t make me cry, Uris,” Richie says, “Come on.” His voice is wet.

Stan looks at all of them. “Are we going to forget again?” he asks, the question everyone is fearing. Stormclouds roam over Mike’s face.

“I don’t know,” Mike admits, “It is gone, so it could be different this time. We’ll just have to see.”

The looks on everyone faces are glum. No one wants to forget. No one wanted to forget anything in the first place, except the clown. The thought of not remembering his best friends’ faces is killing Stan.

“We’ll write each other’s names down, or something,” Bill says, “Ben, didn’t you remember Beverly, because you kept her signature?”

Blushing, Ben clears his throat, “I- I didn’t remember _her. _Just the… feeling.”

Beverly smiles softly at Ben and reaches to squeeze his arm.

“Pictures,” Eddie suggests.

“Are you saying you want a selfie with me?” Richie quips.

“Shut up, Richie,” Eddie hisses. It must be a reflex to him, by now. Everyone smiles at the pair. Beverly’s eyes glisten knowingly, and Stan suspects he’s not the only one aware of Richie’s affections. “I mean, it could be helpful?”

“We should also make a group chat,” Beverly says, already digging out her phone. “And message there every day.” Everyone is nodding, agreeing that it’s a good idea. Stan hates group chats and this one has the potential to become the most annoying one he’s ever been a part of, but it’s also the Losers. They’re something Stan wants to keep in his heart and soul forever.

They start chatting about their plans. Beverly is asking everyone for their numbers. Stan zones out. He still feels so tired, partly because of the struggle in the sewers, partly because of the concussion. His face aches and he wonders if the bite marks will leave proper scars, this time.

“Stan?” Beverly says and Stan knows she’s asking his number. But then, the door opens. The entire Losers’ Club turns to look, and-

“Stan? Honey?”

It’s Patty, tears flowing down her face. Stan’s heart lurches in his chest. He hates nothing more than seeing Patty cry. And he’s seen that enough – after every negative pregnancy test, after she’s been harassed for being Jewish and now, after _It. _

“Patty, don’t cry,” Stan pleads and tries to get up, but Ben pushes him gently back down. Patty lets out a broken sob and rushes forward, squeezes herself between Eddie and Richie. Stan feels Richie’s hand slowly leave his hair and then, Patty is touching his face.

“Wh- What happened?” she asks. Then, she notices the crowd of people gathered around her husband. “Who are these people?” She looks at them and they look back at her, at loss of words.

“These are my friends, Patty. We haven’t seen each other in 27 years, so this is quite the reunion. That’s Ben, and Beverly.”

“We spoke on the phone,” Beverly says to Patty, smiling her kind smile.

“I suppose we did,” whispers Patty.

“That’s Bill, he was our leader back then. And Mike – he’s the one who called.”

“Right,” Patty mutters, caressing Stan’s face.

“That’s Eddie. And this is Richie.”

“Hi,” says Richie. He sounds oddly shy.

“Hi,” Patty says back to him. She touches the bandages on Stan’s face, her eyes widening. “Were you _bitten?” _

“It’s a long story,” Stan says, “But technically, yes.”

“Technically?”

Eddie raises his hand and interjects, “I was stabbed.” Patty turns to look at him and sees the bandage on his cheek. Her eyes widen ever more.

“What on Earth went down in this town,” she says, horrified.

“Guys,” Beverly interrupts, “Let’s leave Stan and Patty alone for a moment, okay?” She shows an example and stands up, Ben quickly following her. Slowly, the Losers trickle out, Richie last.

Patty sniffles. Her shaking hands squeeze Stan’s. Stan reaches to brush the tears off her beautiful face. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m alright.”

“Yeah, I know,” Patty says, “I’m crying from relief.” She blinks, clearly annoyed at herself. She shouldn’t be.

“I want to tell you what happened,” Stan says. It can’t hurt her now. With a shaky sigh, Stan continues, “You know I’d never lie to you? This story may sound unbelievable. Completely bonkers. But… those six friends of mine can confirm everything I’m about to say is true.”

Now, Patty looks a bit scared. Regardless, she nods. “Tell me.”

“It all started in the summer of 1989…”

\--

The next day, Stan is released from the hospital. All the Losers are still in Derry – not that they really want to stay, but they couldn’t leave Stan behind when he was still admitted.

When they return to the Town House, Eddie fusses over Stan’s bandages, explaining to Patty what she should and should not do. Stan – he rolls his eyes.

“Edward, thank you, I’m sure everything will be alright,” Patty says to Eddie gently.

“Eddie, please, I insist. Call me Eddie,” says Eddie.

“Or Eds. If you want to push his buttons,” says Richie, who’s hovering nearby. Eddie looks like he wants to leap at Richie’s throat. So, the usual.

“I need to get out of here,” Eddie huffs, throwing his hands up in the air defensively. He leaves the room. He also leaves a fond smile on Richie’s lips.

Richie sits on the bed next to Stan and Patty. Patty looks at Richie and asks, squinting, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“He’s a stand-up comedian,” Stan explains to her.

“Huh,” Patty says, “Stan tells me you’re his _bestest _friend.” She smiles smugly at Stan and Stan kind of regrets admitting that to her, when they were chatting cuddled in the hospital bed.

“Stanley is living his best Sex and the City life. He’s Carrie Bradshaw – because of the curly hair, which makes you, Patricia, his Mr. Big. And I’m the gay best friend,” Richie says.

Stan stares at him, stunned.

“You watch Sex and the City?” Patty asks. Stan knows she hates that show. “Wait, you’re gay? Are you?”

Richie blinks. “_Shit.”_

“Did you just accidentally come out to my wife?” Stan asks. That’s so _Richie, _coming out via a bad joke.

“I didn’t mean to!” Richie says, “But guess the cat is out of the bag. Or, _I’m _out of the _closet. _Yeah, I’m gay. You’re officially the second person to know.”

“I think Bev knows,” Stan points out, grimacing.

“You think she does?” Richie groans, leaning back and lying down on the bed. “Fuck. That woman is way too observant. Speaking of Bev, do you remember how in love you all were with her?”

“I was not in love with her,” Stan protests, blushing, because Patty is there. Patty just smirks, playing with Stan’s fingers.

“You had a crush on her,” Richie says, “Everyone had at least a crush on her – you, Bill, Mike… Ben, that son of a gun, Eddie, too, probably.”

Snorting, Stan says, “_Eddie _never had a crush on Bev.”

“At least I didn’t have any competition,” Richie says, “You were too busy trying to get Bev’s attention so I could pine after Eddie in peace.”

“_Richie,” _Stan says, voice full of love, but laced with pity.

“What?”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Tell who what?”

“Eddie,” Stan says, rolling his eyes, once again. “You know what.”

“You’d make a cute couple,” Patty points out, smiling gently at Richie. Richie’s defensive glare softens when he looks at her. Only heartless people snap at Patty.

“27 years, Richie,” Stan says. Richie stays quiet.

“Stan, what if- What if he rejects me?”

“He won’t,” Stan says, “I mean, I honestly don’t know. _But _he’s Eddie and he _loves _you and he’d never want to hurt you. He might be confused at first, but you’ll work it out. I think you’re meant to be together.”

“He does love it when you give him attention,” Patty says.

“See,” Stan continues, pointing at Patty, “Even _she _gets it, and she hasn’t known you for 30ish years.”

“Stan, we didn’t see each other in, like, 27 years,” Richie says.

“Besides the point. Go for it. And if it fails, come cry into my arms.”

“That’s noble of you,” Richie says, “Maybe I should woo you instead. You mind, Patty?”

“I think we can share,” Patty grins. Richie laughs.

They all laugh.

Stan doesn’t want to lose this. Richie – all his friends – fit so perfectly in his life, with Patty. He’s terrified to leave Derry, which is weird to think about.

“Fuck it,” Richie whispers, “Guess it’s time to be brave again.”

\--

Finally, it is time to leave Derry.

Stan hadn’t wanted to return the town in the first place. All the time he had spent there, he had fought the urge to leave. Now, everything feels bittersweet. They have no idea if their memories start to fade again. Each of them takes careful time, memorizing each other.

“Mike,” Stan says to Mike, catching a moment alone with him. Mike turns and smiles, striding forward to hug Stan. It feels good – warm and safe.

They’re waiting for Eddie and Richie. Everyone has agreed to leave the town at the same time, everyone but Mike, who has decided to stay behind a little while longer.

“Promise me that you won’t stay for more than two months,” Stan says to Mike, squeezing his shoulders. Mike nods.

They have decided that they wait for two months. If they still remember by then, they’re probably safe. Otherwise, Mike is to call them back and they’ll figure something out.

“You deserve a long break from this town,” Stan says, “Remember? You always wanted to go to Florida.”

“I did,” Mike smiles, “God, I missed you all.”

The smile on Stan’s face dies. “It must have been horrible,” Stan says, “Everyone leaving. Everyone promising to write, or call. You remembered. We didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Mike says, “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I figured it out quite fast. It was bad, but I managed. There was nothing I could really do.”

Richie red car appears just then and soon, he and Eddie are stepping out. As they approach the others, Stan can see they’re holding hands.

“I’ll be damned,” Mike whispers. Stan grins.

“Turns out we were gay all along!” Richie shouts.

“_What,” _Bill squeaks.

“Richie, shut up,” Eddie says, elbowing Richie. “We’re in _Derry, _for fuck’s sake.”

Beverly runs towards them and squeezes them both in a hug. Eddie is protesting, but gives up, smiling. Ben is next and soon, the whole Losers’ Club is hugging them while Richie chants, “Group hug! Group hug! You too, Patty. You’re an honorary member.”

Grinning, Patty joins. She kisses Richie’s cheek and ruffles Eddie’s hair.

They huddle together for a long time, no one wanting to let go. Finally, Beverly sighs, and squirms away. She wipes tears – happy and sad ones – away from her face and looks at Ben pointedly.

“Time to go?” Ben says, looking like a kicked puppy. He’s hugging Eddie from behind and Eddie is plastered to Richie’s side.

“Yeah,” Beverly says. They hug everyone – including Patty – individually and then, hand in hand, walk to Ben’s car. Beverly’s hair shines in the sunlight and she’s wearing a yellow sundress. When she smiles at Ben, she looks the happiest Stan has ever seen her.

They wave at them and drive away.

“Who would’ve have guessed we’d divide into couples,” Richie says, looking at them driving away. He’s holding Eddie’s hand to his chest. “Ben and Bev, me and Eddie, Stan and Patty…” He looks pointedly at Bill and Mike.

“What?” Mike says.

“I have a wife,” Bill splutters.

“So does Eddie,” Richie says.

“Don’t tease them,” Stan says to Richie, trying to kick him, but his leg doesn’t reach him.

“I think… I’m going to go now,” Bill says. He looks at all of them like he wants to cry. He gives them each a minute-long hug. Then, he’s driving away, as well.

“Richie, you promised us a ride to the airport,” Stan says hoarsely.

“I did?” Richie asks. He sounds miserable.

He hadn’t. Stan just wasn’t ready to let him go just yet.

Richie turns to Eddie and Stan and Patty take their time in saying goodbyes to Mike. They want to give privacy to Richie and Eddie. After ten minutes, Stan walks over to them and tugs the back of Richie’s shirt. “_Rich,” _he says, actually hating to separate them. Eddie is going to New York, to get his divorce going. Then, he can be with Richie.

Richie leans his forehead on Eddie’s, mumbling_, _“You promise to call me right away, Edward Spaghedward?”

“Gosh, I hate you so much,” Eddie whispers, but Stan knows their language. What Eddie means is, _I love you._

Richie kisses Eddie, all over his face. With a sigh, he lets go.

It’s Stan who ends up driving. Richie is crying too much.

“What if I forget him again?” he whines. Patty turns around and reaches for Richie’s hand.

“You _won’t,” _she says, “You have to will it. You _won’t _forget him.”

\--

It’s late at night when Stan and Patty are finally home. Both of them are exhausted. Patty turns on the tea kettle and prepares them some sandwiches to eat. Stan takes his suitcase to the bedroom. He flinches at his reflection on the mirror, all those bandages, hiding the wounds that’ll most likely leave scars. He hadn’t wanted a reminder of what happen to stare back at him for the rest of his life, but at least he’s alive.

The envelope is placed on top of his neatly folded clothes. It’s brown and thick. Mike had handed each of them one when they were leaving.

“Old photographs, from the summer of 1989, mostly,” he had explained.

Stan brings the envelope into the living room. Patty is already eating on the couch, feet tucked adorably underneath her body. She smiles happily at Stan as Stan comes to her. He sits down and pulls her against his body.

“What’s that?” Patty asks about the envelope.

Instead of answering, Stan opens it and pulls out the photos. Patty gasps as the looks at the first one – those picture’s they’d taken in the photobooth.

“You’re all so _little,” _Patty whispers, “I can’t believe you had to fight that… thing when you were this little.”

“We were all so brave,” Stan whispers, running his thumb over the picture.

They look at the photos for hours, Stan telling Patty about the fond memories. Stan is happy he hasn’t lost them, that they’d come back, _for now._

“Look at Richie,” Patty squeals, “He really grew into his looks. Is that him and Eddie in a _hammock?”_

“Yeah, that was at our clubhouse. It’s still there, in Derry. I bought everyone shower caps so that we wouldn’t get spiders stuck in our hair. Richie refused to wear one and so did Eddie, because he wanted to seem cool for Richie.”

Patty laughs. “They always loved each other, didn’t they?”

“They did,” Stan says quietly, kissing Patty’s hairline. “I’m glad they found their way back to each other, like Ben and Beverly.”

He couldn’t imagine being separated from Patty, _forgetting _her, for 27 years.

\--

It’s been a year and the Losers have not forgotten. Every day, Stan feels utter relief in his chest, as he thinks about how he gets to keep the most important people in his life. And Patty.

Most of them reside in Los Angeles – Richie, Eddie, Bill, Beverly and Ben. Mike is in Florida and Stan in Atlanta with Patty. They see each other as often as they can and talk with each other every day.

Ben and Beverly are already married. They married in secret three months after leaving Derry, after Mike had left, as well. All of them were mad at them, for they didn’t get to attend the wedding.

They’re expecting. Their baby is due in six months. Beverly is glowing. Stan remembers the day they had told him and Patty, via a Skype call. He remembers Patty smiling, telling how happy she was for them. There had been sadness in her smile.

“Patty,” Stan had said to her the same evening, “If they are able to have children, we must be, too. I think it was because of It we weren’t able to conceive before. I genuinely believe that.”

“You think so?” had Patty said, voice wobbly. She was already 40, but it wasn’t too late. Beverly was 40, as well.

They’d been daring to hope since then.

Stan hadn’t thought his life could get any better. But now, the looming fear is gone. The scars on his face aren’t that bad. He has Patty and he has the six friends he never wants to let go. He’s smiling – all the time.

One day, when Stan comes back from work, Patty walks to him, both of her hands behind her back. She smiles her brilliant smile at Stan and gives him a kiss in greeting.

“Patty?” Stan asks, sensing that she’s got something on her mind.

“Pick a hand,” she says.

“What’s this?”

“Just pick. It’ll be a pleasant surprise, either way?”

“Alright,” Stan laughs, “Um, I’ll pick the left one.”

Grinning, Patty hands Stan an envelope. It has been already opened; a letter pointed to the both of them. Inside the envelope, Stan finds a card.

_You’re invited to the wedding of Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak._

Stan lets out a surprised yell. “These bastards! Didn’t even tell us they were engaged! Were they trying to pull a Ben and Beverly, but got caught? I bet it was Bev who caught them…”

Patty laughs as Stan has to actually take seat. He stares at the invite, unable to stop smiling.

Then, he remembers. “Patty, what’s on your other hand?”

Patty looks down. She’s smiling.

She hands Stan an ultrasound picture.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is richietosier come say hi :)


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